


Luxuria

by madame_alexandra



Series: Vice and Virtue [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Lust, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: Luxuria: def. "self-indulgent sexual desire," syn: Lust. / an anthology of (plotless) smutty vignettes. Han/Leia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: this is a plotless collection of nothing.

** Stars **

* * *

She hadn't been there half an hour ago, yet there she was. When he passed by the open door of his cabin, he was yanked back as if lassoed, drawn stumbling back into the doorway by a flash of colour, white skin and dark hair and her feminine figure, lolling on the unmade bunk.

He leaned against the arced wall of the entrance, blinking, the usual greeting on his lips –  _hey, Sweetheart_ – but the pet name died swiftly on his lips, when he focused, looked closer, saw what she was wearing.

Lolling, not  _lolling_  on the bed – she was displayed,  _exhibited_ , one leg dangling attractively off the bunk, tiptoes brushing the floor, the other drawn up, knee pointed primly upwards as her head rested on the pillows and her eyes, her eyes gazed above her, somehow both unconcerned with his attention, and thriving on it.

She was all violet lace and bare skin, and Han bowed his head a moment, leaning heavily against his arm as he lifted his eyes to stare – giving her, willingly, the aching stare she had clearly come for – his gaze ravaged that lingerie, memorized the barely-there, floral stitching that roamed over her breasts and between her legs, covering her without covering a damn thing at all.

Leia turned her head, tapping her foot ever so lightly, her eyes alighting on him.

"Ha-a-an," she purred seductively, pursing her lips. "Come get me, hotshot."

He ran his hand over his mouth, lowering it to grasp at the collar of his shirt, short of breath. He lifted a brow, letting his hand drift down to his waist and tucking it into his belt.

"S'there an occasion?" he drawled huskily.

Leia rolled her head slowly, looking back up above her. Her shoulders moved fluidly in a coquettish shrug.

"I've forgotten what the top of this bunk looks like," she coaxed sweetly.

Han let his arm slide off the wall and strode forward, singlehandedly unfastening his belt as he moved. He whipped it through his belt loops deftly and dropped it to the floor near his boots, as Leia gracefully sat forward, turning to let both legs hang off the bunk, and look up at him through her lashes.

She reached for his hips, and loosened his zipper, sliding her palms into his trousers and teasing her palms over his warm skin. He hung his hand onto the top of the bunk and flashed her a grin, taking a knee in front of her. Her hands rose to his chest, and he bowed his head gallantly, reaching down to wrap his palm around her knee.

Leia fell back, tilting her head upwards with a sigh, lifting her other leg to place it over Han's shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the inside of her knee as he situated the other, lowering his other knee.

He turned his head to brush his mouth against her thigh, his breath hitching when she tightened her muscles just a little – she gave him such an incredible thrill, holding him like this, in a way that might be lethal, if he ever did her wrong.

He slid his hands over her and lowered his head, pressing his nose against her navel, and then scraping his teeth against the lace panties, his tongue darting out to tease her over them –

"Leia," he growled, his voice traveling through her like a shockwave, deep and vibrant between her legs –

She moaned a soft response –

"See anyhin' new up there?"

He nipped the edge of the lace with his teeth; she gasped –

 _"Stars_  - "


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: thanks, JT

**"Put your filthy hands all over me."**   
**Justin Timberlake; "Filthy."**

* * *

Filthy

* * *

Pinned into the corner of the elevator, Leia's fingers inched along the cool metal siding of the lift, leaving sweaty streaks as she blindly fumbled for the control pad – her vision was compromised, starry and fixed on the ceiling because her head was thrown back and she was whispering a prayer –  _Han, Han, Han –_

Her fingertips grazed the smooth surface of the button, and she pressed it, hard, her knuckles turning white – physically holding the door closed – she'd felt the elevator shudder to a stop as her breath was hitching, and she couldn't risk those doors flying open –

"Han," she bit out huskily, her other hand raking down his spine – "You –  _lose_  – "

He bared his teeth, pressing them against her throat, his palm still cupping her breast possessively, thumb brushing over her nipple, while he worked his fingers between her legs –

"Arch your back," he growled.

_"Ahh-ahh-and_  – hand you – the –  _ohhhhh_ ," she broke off, biting her lip, her breath rushing out in a hiss – the bastard knew her too well, arching her hips was inevitable when he was in her up to the knuckle like that –

Her eyes flew open, and she swallowed a scream, her nails digging into his back as the climax cracked through her like a whip, hard, and sudden, hot as lightening – she jammed her finger hard into the hold button, willing those doors to stay closed -

Dressed in their finest – for Han, the one fine suit he owned, ironed, and dusted off; for Leia, a custom gown a designer had asked her to wear, cut conservatively at the neck but low in the back – the two of them had stared at the closed elevator doors, pressure building in their ears it rose, and rose, taking them to the skyscraper penthouse ballroom, when he nudged her forward, his mouth lowering to her ear –

" _Bet you – bet you – I can make you come – 'fore this elevator stops – "_

Stumbling back into the corner, Leia tilted her head up at him, lashes fluttering –  _"And what's the wager - ?"_

Leaving this damn event early was on the table, and Han was not going to lose – and they hadn't been strict about terms – he didn't give a damn if the lift had jolted to its destination, and Leia had to claw at the controls to keep it closed – she was in pieces, between him an this elevator wall, and if she let him have the victory, there'd be more of this when he got her home –

_I only go to these events to see your dress on the bedroom floor_  –

Leia's hand slipped at the controls – "Han!" she gasped desperately, and he pressed a swift, charming kiss to her lips, stepping back, shaking the bunched up skirt of her gown down to the floor.

She let out her breath, her eyes closed, and Han reached out to hold his fist on the button for her, letting her regroup for a second – she licked her lips, touched her braids neatly, clearing her throat, her face flushed beautifully – it really was a fine cosmetic, an orgasm –

"You lose," she purred smoothly, stepping closer to him.

He let go of the button, draping his arm around her shoulders, sliding his hand under the fabric at her sides to rub his hand clean on her skin, brushing his knuckles against her bare back as he drew back – she caught her breath, and he stepped behind her a little, straightening his shoulders.

She stared at her reflections as the elevator doors glided open innocently –

"Filthy," she murmured, the word enticing – both punishing, and promising.

He caught her, stopping her from leaving, and bent to kiss her throat, whispering –

"Think of me when you dance with the political devils, Sweetheart," he growled roguish.

Her heart raced, knees weak – lost the bet, he lost the bet and still, still she knew they'd last less than an hour at this godforsaken gala –

* * *

_-alexandra_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -alexandra


	3. Chapter 3

**Dignity**

* * *

Her heart fluttered against her ribs in time with her quick, light breaths, her mouth parting in painstaking anticipating as Han's lips moved temptingly down her spine, slow, and teasing – he was such a tease – leaving her poised at the edge like that, depriving her –

Leia's lashes fluttered as she pressed her forehead into the pillow beneath her, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets – she waited, every inch of her burning, shivering, hinged on the indescribable suspense of his next action – she moaned softly, his name forming on her lips, in the throes of the delicious thrill of not knowing whether to expect his mouth, or his –

Han's hands curved around her hips, his mouth suddenly withdrawn from her lower back, and he knelt behind her, drawing her up against him firmly, the backs of her thighs fitting against his exquisitely as he thrust back into her.

Leia bit her lip, her fingers flexing in the sheets as the electricity of that thrust seared through her, taking her breath away, and trapping any sound she tried to make in her throat for a moment that felt so good it was immobilizing.

Her voice rushed back to her with a gasp, and she cried out his name with a split-second delay, pushing herself up on her forearms. She ran her hand over her face and back through her hair, taking a deep breath, tipping her head back just slightly as he held her hips and sat forward on his knees with more purpose, moving in her so – with such –  _oh, for fuck's sake –_

She let her head fall forward, biting at her lip.

"Han," she murmured breathlessly, tangling her fingers in her hair, her elbows digging into the bed as she pushed her hips back against him.

Han faltered sharply, his rhythm disrupted by the aggressive thrust of her hips, and loosened his hold on her; letting his fingers dance down her spine, rest for a moment on her lower back. He pushed his palm against the back of her thigh gently, and Leia arched her back, placing her hands on the bed, and cradling her face in them.

Han slipped his hand under her, over her stomach, and then between her legs, resuming his movements.

Leia gasped.

"Mmm," she moaned into her hand, her teeth scraping against her own fingers.

She lifted her head again, sliding her hands back into her hair, her breath starting to hitch as he drove her right back to the edge he'd taken her from moments ago – the determination in his hand and his hips, though, told her he wasn't teasing her this time –

"Han," she encouraged, bracing herself on her palms for a moment, before she decided her elbows couldn't be trusted, and fell back to her forearms.  _"Fuck,"_  she moaned, closing her eyes tightly – she felt for a moment like she'd lost her voice again; then, before she could stop herself, she screamed, ensnared by the intensity.

He slowed a little, a quiet groan escaping his lips, and then his movements were swift, urgent – he relaxed, sitting back on his heels, and took hold of her ankle, his grip gentle but insistent. Still in haze, she acquiesced to his silent command for her to turn over, and spread her legs around his hips, reaching forward to grab for his shoulders, anticipating the touch as he moved over her, sliding into her again and trailing his mouth up over her shoulder to her ear, a smirk dancing on his lips –

"Sweetheart," he growled innocently – "You come?" - -as if he didn't know, as if he wasn't still reaping the benefits, his control tested by the tight contractions inside her –

Leia made a desperate noise, her head turning back and forth, and flashed him a wry look, offering a breathless jest –

"No, that was fake," she teased, her breath hitching up at the end, basking in the afterglow – she clutched his shoulder, arching her back and digging her nails into him.

Han swore and braced his palm over her shoulder, unraveling in three erratic thrusts, his lips finding hers for a hard, satisfied kiss as he huskily muttered her name again and again.

His hips rested heavily on hers, and she tilted her head back, reveling in the feel of his slick, hot skin against hers, the unbridled, comfortable lust that she associated with his touch, his body buried inside her – she swallowed hard, her lashes fluttering again as she caught her breath, and stroked his hair.

Leia nudged his jaw with her nose, tilting her head until she could scrape his earlobe with her teeth – "Han," she purred quietly – "You know...how I like it when you fuck me like you don't respect me – "

Han grunted, and lifted his head, his expression charming, roguish, serious –

"I do respect you."

Her head fell back, and she nodded, still enticed by the commanding way he'd slammed her hips back against him, taken her with such – masculine confidence –

"Mmhmm," she murmured huskily – "That's why it's so," she licked her lips – "hot."

Han grinned, lowering his lips to her neck –

"Very undignified," he growled devilishly, "Your Highness."

He started to move his hips, and she pressed a heel into his lower back, holding him where he was, possessive of him, her lips pressing into his jaw again, sated and hungry all at once, because there was dignity in the sacred prurience that was his and hers alone.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- alexandra


	4. Chapter 4

**Romantic**

* * *

His eyes drifted open, and then closed again, his vision hazy and obscured by eyelashes, and the blurriness of sweat, salty and stinging. Relaxed, just over the peak of a white-knuckled climax, he let his head hang back against the cushions of the sofa, his hands still curved reverently around Leia's hips.

She moved, sliding forward in the saddle of his hips, and his jaw tightened, and then relaxed, a gruff sigh escaping his lips. He was hyper focused on her, loathe to open his eyes, lift his head and break the spell. Her head, bowed against his shoulder, rested on him heavily, and proudly – her lips pressed again and again against his collarbone, neck, and shoulder, trembling, sated kisses; her fingers worked through his hair in an intoxicating massage, somehow, some way, stirring his lust all over again.

He slid his palms around to her back, pressing her hips down and forward, anchoring her to him even in the afterglow. He swallowed hard, reveling in the warmth of her on top of him, caught up, still, in the tight embrace of her body – his mouth moved in a raw, soundless swear; he could still feel the flutters inside her, and he held her close.

There was something so –  _primal_  – about moments like these; the heady rush that struck when a benign, subtle graze of palm against cheek evolved into something fast, rough, and spontaneous, a vigorous and unexpected – but deliciously welcome – fuck on the couch, a half-clothed, breathtaking, abrupt start, and a finish like fireworks –

The most mouth-watering part about it was that this was akin to a spark, a flare before a flame – the loud, urgent, exhilarating pleasure of a quickie in their living room was always, always destined to spiral into a nightlong slow-burning intensity –

Leia murmured against his skin, her lips rising up his neck, shifting forward again slowly, slowly. She ignored the ache of protest between her legs, her body telling her it was time to ease away from him, take a breath –  _fuck off,_  she swore at herself flippantly –  _I want him inside me even when it's over –_

"Mmm," she murmured, her voice humming under his skin. "You feel so good," she whispered, her mouth hot against his jaw, tongue and teeth slipping against his ear.

He turned his head a little, finally lifting it to catch her eye. He held her gaze for a moment, and then lifted his head more and kissed her jaw, sitting forward to kiss her lips. She buried her fingers deeper in his hair, parting her lips, catching her breath against his mouth.

Over her shoulder, the Holo shimmered, muted, abandoned in pursuit of lust. Han closed his eyes momentarily, and buried his face in her neck, taking a deep breath.

_"You_  feel good," he drawled, his words muffled.

He sighed, groaned softly into her skin –  _thinking_  about it was getting him hot all over again – as if he'd ever cooled – thinking about her hands on his shoulders, her hands braced against the couch behind him, the rough thrust of her hips, perfect, tempting curve of her mouth as she held his gaze and rode him, twitch of her lashes when she'd made him come – the way a smirk of triumph had flashed across her face before she closed her own eyes and threw her head back and crashed into her own climax.

"So…fucking good," he growled.

She swallowed hard, tightening her muscles, from her abdomen, to her groin, slow and purposeful, her lips at his ear again, lashes brushing his temple –

"If I…do this, keep doing this," she murmured –  _tighten of her muscles_ – "I think…I can feel you get hard again," she kissed his jaw, "inside me."

Han swallowed hard, giving a short, husky laugh – half of him thought it would work like a charm; half of him thought it might hurt her to try –

"Want to take this to bed?" he suggested instead.

Leia kissed his jaw again. She shook her head, stroking his hair still, pressing closer.

"I don't want to move," she whispered – she was content to stay on him, have him  _in_  her where he belonged, until the physical realities made it too uncomfortable to bear -

"That good?" he asked, squeezing her hip possessively.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat for a moment.

"That good," she repeated, licking her lips – "and I don't want to make a mess," she teased softly – her teeth scraped his ear again, and he closed his eyes, slipping his hand down to her thigh, to the wetness where their thighs met.

She heard a soft growl in the back of his throat, and she bit her lip, pressing her face into his hair with a smile.

"And here I thought you were bein' romantic," Han mumbled.

Her fingers tangled in his hair tightly, holding his temple against her lips with ownership, lust; with an aggressive tenderness –

"You feel," she said again, her voice low, and beautiful, "so good."

And Han let his head fall back again, and tasted sweat and salt on her lips when she kissed him, and pressed his hand reverently against her thigh.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- alexandra


	5. Chapter 5

**_ Spices _ **

* * *

There were, by virtue of the vast litany of events and experiences in the galaxy, hundreds of ways to be unexpectedly woken up – there were the more routine ways, such as alarm clocks or the smell of kaffe, and there were the more extreme ways – blaster fire, explosions, thunderstorms, other inexplicable jolts – but for all it was worth, and for all the abrupt ways he'd been jarred awake, by far the best he could recall was the shock of warm intensity, the slow burn of hot arousal through his blood, that lulled him out of sleep when she graced him with her mouth on his cock.

It was not a frequent occurrence; though Leia's lips were as prolific in her foreplay as they were in her sharp-tongued diplomacy, sunrise blowjobs were coveted moments –  _treats_ , and frequency diminished the appeal of treats – but when she did it, when she woke him up like this –

There was always a startling moment in which he thought he was dreaming – not an uncommon dream, even after they got together, she had the kind of hair that begged a man to indulge in oral fantasies – he'd catch his breath hard, hands clutching at the sheets, only to find she'd ripped them off, kicked them down the bed, exposed them both to cool morning air and trailed kisses down his chest, down his navel, and claimed him –  _no, not a dream._

Not a dream in the truest sense of the word, but  _she_  was a dream – her mouth was a dream, her tongue a fantasy, the unbelievable soft-rough way she used her teeth was, was –

Han tilted his head back into the pillows, his head hitting against the headboard. He twisted his fingers in her hair desperately, alternating between softly, gently massaging her scalp, and pulling hard, enough to encourage her without hurting her.

Her hands moved over his thighs and his hips, running up over him in a tantalizing massage, and then drifting down between his legs to augment her mouth. She was devastating in every sense of the word – damned if he couldn't feel the slow, vixen smirk on her lips as she worked him with her tongue –

\- and she'd stop, ease back, let him suffer, press soft, barely-there kisses to the inside of his thighs and the slope of his hip bone, waiting for him to gruffly beg her to have mercy –  _come on, Sweetheart, finish, or get up here and fuck me, 'm losin' it, you're killin' me -_

His fingers in her hair were lazy and yet possessive, strong but reverent, and he closed his eyes tight, seeing bright white starbursts as he resisted the urge to thrust his hips – patience, patience would earn him the world –

Leia's knuckles kneaded into his thigh, massaging primly, and he grit his teeth, shifting his hips, shifting one of his legs so that his knee was bent upwards. His hands brushed over her hair, fingertips brushing her temples, then plunging back into her hair tightly.

He groaned, dizzy, his muscles aching with the effort he exerted to make it last, existing in the desire to feel her lips on him all morning, to have her there forever, while she drove him to the edge and dug her heels in, overwhelming him –

Han thrust his head back again, his jaw tightening; Leia withdrew her mouth momentarily, her elbow resting near his hip, her hand brushing her own cheek fetchingly as she looked over him appraisingly, watching him – she curled her hand around him, palm warm and tight, sliding her hand over him in a teasing, drawn out twist, her lips lingering close enough that he felt the warmth of her breath –

"Han," she called coquettishly. "Look at me."

He turned his head to one side, then disentangled one of his hands and brought it up to his face, wiping sweat off his brow, pushing his hair back, and biting his thumb before he lifted his head to look at her.

Eye contact, and she lowered her lashes, her lips pursed innocently, slipping her hand under his hips to dig her nails into his lower back – she lifted her legs, crossed them at the ankle, and gazed back at him seductively, stretched out between his thighs, her knees touching the edge of the bed, draped over him. Eye contact, and her mouth was on him again, lashes fluttering – it was unbearably sensual, and Han could only stand to watch her for a handful of seconds, before he dropped his head harshly back to the pillow, throwing it back again –

"Fuck," he swore, his hand shaking as it found its way back to his hair – both of his hands, twisting and knotting in her dark mane – "Leia," he groaned softly, his breathing roughening sharply – " _Fuck_ , Leia, your – mouth, you're – 'm – gonna – "

_Come_  – he couldn't finish the sentence, but warnings were a thing of their past, and she had never abided by them anyway – he felt, for the barest hint of a moment, a touch of the back of her throat – and that was it, his undoing, his unraveling – his hands tight in her hair, and her mouth tight around him, unrelenting until the moment he relaxed with a soft grunt – likewise her hands relaxed, and he was still seeing white lights and spinning stars when he felt her move aside and take a deep breath, resting her forehead lightly against his hip.

He'd never spent much of his life imagining what a religious experience was like, but he was sure that the secret to seeing God was in the back of Leia's throat.

She shifted, moving over him, sliding her body over his as he struggled to catch his breath and cool his blood – she rested on top of him lightly, one leg tucked gingerly between his, the other carelessly slipping off the bed, in a most elegant definition of haphazard.

She watched him, her face flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright – her hair tumbling over her shoulders, tangled with the obvious ministrations of his fingers, and she brushed her knuckles against his jaw, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her – and when he did, she smiled softly.

"The way you stroke my hair when I go down on you – " she trailed off, biting her lip –  _I love it._

She smiled at him a moment longer, then touched her nose to his, and rolled off of him to her back, sighing contently, taking deep breaths next to him. He turned closer to her, pulling her close and pressing his face into her neck, his voice raw, and awed, when he mumbled his appreciation, and then nipped at her jaw, flirting with her –

"You always swallow, Sweetheart," he murmured, low and enticing – "You know…how hot it gets me?"

Leia turned her head to look at him, her tongue between her teeth –

"I've always liked Corellian spices."

Han's laughter was husky, and arousing, and her skin flushed pink, and powerful, reaching over to run her fingers through his hair, and pull hard, reveling in the private abandon they shared.

* * *

_i can't believe the longest installment of this series has been about a blowjob._

_-alexandra_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe the longest installment of this series has been about a blowjob.
> 
> -alexandra


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: thanks to beyonce for being beyonce

**"Driver, roll up the partition please."**   
**Beyonce; "Partition."**

* * *

**Partition**

* * *

"Why're we goin' to this shit again?"

With his voice low in her ear like that, lips against her throat, fingers tracing her décolletage, it was hard to remember.

Leia stared hazily up at the roof of the sleek limousine, her lashes veiling her vision – so much space in the back of this elegant speeder, and still Han was so close to her she was faintly uncertain where she ended and he began – and that closeness was engendered only by his hands and mouth, if he got anything else into his head –

She turned to the side a little, rolling her head, and traced her hand up his chest, cupping his jaw and drawing his mouth to hers for a kiss, her teeth scraping his bottom lip temptingly – he groaned, soft and insistent, demanding an answer – his hand dipped under the material of her gown –

"Professional courtesy," Leia gasped, as the pad of his thumb stroked over her nipple possessively –

Han's lips broke with hers, traveling up her jaw to her ear skeptically –

"You work with a movie producer?"

"His father," Leia whispered, tilting her head up again – Han's other hand had slipped down from her hip to her knee, gathering the material of her gown in his hand – it was wine-coloured, made of fine, iridescent silks –

"How'sat work?" Han murmured, and Leia caught her breath, reaching down to grab his hand and stall him, pressing her knees together. He slid his hand between her thighs, smirking –

"I go to his son's premiere, he votes for my resolution," Leia whispered, casting her eyes over Han's shoulder at the chauffer – he had dark sunglasses on, and hadn't turned his head once.

Han's teeth brushed her jaw, and he shifted to kiss the corner of her mouth, nudging her thigh with his hip, trying to jostle her into letting him get her dress up higher –

"What's the trade-off?" Han asked, drawing back a little – he met her eyes, noting how feverish she looked, and Leia bit her lip fetchingly, her lashes fluttering as she looked back at him –

"We're very powerful, Han," she whispered, soft and sultry, "we show up to a pop culture event, and the public bleeds money to follow suit."

"That's politics?" he growled.

She shrugged –

"The red carpet at a film premiere isn't the worst price to pay – "

" _I_  ain't got no political power," Han drawled.

Leia drew her index finger under his chin and blew a kiss to him, winking.

" _You're_  a sex symbol."

He grinned devilishly, and lunged forward to kiss her again, short, hard, consuming kisses, while he knocked her hand free, and started dragging that material up between her legs –

"Worst price I gotta pay is anyone else layin' eyes on you in this dress," he growled – his hand moved smoothly out of her gown, and traveled up to her jaw, stroking her skin protectively.

Leia cast her eyes over his shoulder again, lifting her chin pointedly –

"Patience, patience," she coaxed flirtatiously. She bit her lip. "There's a filthy scene in this film, or so I've been warned," she murmured, batting her lashes.

"Warned?" Han quoted slowly.

Leia nodded, feigning innocence –

"A colleague thought I might demure the invite, considering some of the…lascivious content."

Han tilted his head, shifting, and put his lips next to her ear again, drawing his thumb over her lower lip seductively.

"A colleague who thinks your husband doesn't fuck you on a limo bench in the Coruscant fast lane?" he said huskily.

Leia closed her eyes.

"He doesn't," she reminded him, and reached up to run her knuckles along his neck – "And he won't."

Han made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, and pressed a kiss to her exposed collarbone. She closed her eyes, and his hands slid lower – he moved off the seat next to her, and she glanced down through her lashes to see him seated close to her knees, his nose level with the hem of her dress as he held it in his hand.

"The sex scene in the film should hold you over," Leia whispered.

"There's about to be a sex scene in this backseat."

She looked at him, and then up at the pilot, and sat forward, her knees parting slightly. She ran her hand through Han's hair, brows raised, and he caught his tongue between his teeth pointedly, one hand sliding up her thigh under the dress.

"Pilot," Leia said coolly, her voice suddenly laced with that pristine, regal tone she used at work – "Close the partition."

Her eyes remained on Han's as the opaque black glass rose and separated them from the front seat of the limo, and she leaned closer, her lips pursed. She touched his jaw, light as a feather –

"You smudged my lipstick," she murmured – "don't stain this gown."

Han grinned, and made a show of bowing his head reverently, taking her knee in his hand with a firm grip, and lifting it over his shoulder. Leia clutched the gown tightly, tilting her head back and compressing her lips to stay quiet – and hoped, without shame, that the handprint she left on the glass wasn't  _too_  provocative for the red carpet holo flashes.

* * *

**"Handprints and good grips all on my ass."**   
**Beyonce; "Partition."**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- alexandra


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: some language in this one. specifically, the 'c' word, if that bothers anyone.

** Legs **

* * *

There was a time in her life when the idea of having a man's heads between her legs had – not  _repelled_  Leia, but perplexed her; in the halcyon days of youth, when whispered schoolgirl stories had taught her the many things men and women did to each other in bed – things that far exceeded the perfunctory technicalities her mother had told her about – she had learned of the act with a quick, blushing thought of –  _that can't be sanitary,_  and  _for star's sake, what is the point –_

The point, it turned out, was abandonment and bliss, and often – as often as Han's head was buried between her thighs, his tongue tracing spirals of primal magic against her – she lamented the prudish skepticism of her younger self, as she twisted her hands into her husband's thick, golden brûlée hair and arched into his mouth with only a vague concern that she might suffocate him.

The back of her head rocked against the headboard as she tilted her chin up, her vision blurry, lashes fluttering helplessly. Han's palms slid over her stomach, brushing possessively over her abdomen to feel her skin, slick and taut beneath his touch – and then drifted to her hips, grasping her thighs tightly, pinning one leg over his shoulder – the sheer contortion of it was thrilling – having an interest only in men, Leia herself was mildly put off the idea of this act in particular, couldn't imagine having an affinity for it, or considering it more than a necessary reciprocation –

\- yet Han seemed to relish it, a character trait for which she sometimes wanted to worship him -

His stamina was intoxicating, his tongue an elegant weapon, rough and soft all at once, and as her lips parted and she dissolved into sharp, wanton sounds that no well-bred Princess should be making, she marveled at the sensation of Han's ambitious attempt to taste her heart and soul through her cunt –

She felt the intensity in her fingertips, deep in her bones, in her blood, her cells, in the tight, aching heat in her stomach.

" _Han_ ," she moaned – her voice was hoarse, but she'd be screaming if she could – this was the privacy of their bedroom, was it not?

He acknowledged her with a charming, appreciative moan of his own, a tighten of his fingertips on her thigh, and when she clenched her legs around his neck in a rough, breath-taking convulsion, he rubbed his hand over her thigh appreciatively, palm delivering a teasing little smack.

She dug a heel into him.

She stroked her fingers through his hair, alternating between guiding his head and letting him take the lead, her lips moving, breath irregular –

"Han, yes, honey, you're so good – " she murmured, the ache in her abdomen reaching a fever pitch – she gasped, losing her voice, hands loosening and tightening in his hair, slipping away from his head altogether to brush at her stomach and thighs –

He caught one of her hands in his and squeezed, tightly, the touch slick and warm, and a sound of shattering satisfaction burst from her lips, a sound Han echoed, however muffled – she came, and his response was a calculated, slow cessation of his aggressive oral ministrations, until he was pressing feathery, soothing kisses to every inch of her, the juncture of her thighs, tops of them, her sweat-sheened abdomen.

Han kissed his way up her stomach and sternum, moving slowly, breathless himself, his chest moving with gentle, controlled panting as he hovered over her, watching her face, lowering his head to wipe his mouth on the crushed pillows behind her.

She turned her head to kiss him, her hand shaking as she reached over to stroke his neck and clutch his shoulder tightly, her legs pressed together and folded under him –

"I love you," she declared fiercely, her tongue moving over his lips, dizzy with the taste of herself in his mouth – "Ooh,  _ooh_ , Han, I love you – "

"Yeah, yeah," he drawled smugly, flashing a scoundrel grin as he leaned in to give her a harder kiss, utterly content to end things here for a while, if not for the night –

She caught his cheek in her hand, her eyes bright –

"You  _like_  doing that?" she asked – or said – stated? The words came out of her mouth, accusatory and amused at once,  _fascinated_  – so many countless times he'd fucked her with his tongue, and she'd never asked if it was fetish, fantasy, or –

He made a quiet noise against her lips, pressing his forehead hard into hers.

"To you," he answered huskily, drawing in a deep, satisfied breath, his nose nudging into her cheek – "You taste," he mumbled, taking another deep breath – "fucking…incredible."

The blush on her skin was deep and flourishing, and so was the arousal that spiked through her again, riding the waning crest of her climax, igniting something all over again –

"You're biased," she whispered.

He shrugged.

"Do you feel good?" he asked.

Laughing, she nodded, her lashes fluttering. She traced her hand over his jaw, and Han looked at her intently, his eyes warm, and filled with a heady smoke of lust. He pressed closer to her, nudging her legs apart and settling between her legs comfortable –

"You feel good, I feel good," he murmured, and then lifted his head to give her a seductive wink – "and 'm a leg guy, baby," he drawled playfully.

Leia tilted her head back and laughed, hugging his head affectionately against his neck – he pressed a kiss there, and it was tender and wholesome, and so was the rest of it, when it was within the confines of this kind of love, rather than a whispered abstract of tittering school girls.

* * *

**_The End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> -alexandra

**Author's Note:**

> \- alexandra


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